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Should You Wear a Safety Pin – Say Something Sunday

Love this blog about safety pin wearing for support and solidarity.

Dances With Fat

People in the US are borrowing a response to Brexit.  It’s the small act of wearing a safety pin to show that we are in solidarity with marginalized groups.  This is in response to the US having a president-elect who ran on a platform of blatant racism, xenophobia, Islamophobia, misogyny, anti-Queer anti-Trans sentiment, and anti-Semitism, whose election was supported, endorsed, and celebrated by the KKK, and who has appointed a white supremacist and a boatload of viciously anti-queer and trans people to his transition team,

As word of this project has been getting around, there have been arguments against it, and a few hundred of you have asked me what I think.  I thought I would discuss the major arguments that I’ve seen and then give my thoughts:

The first argument I’ve seen is the idea that you shouldn’t wear the pin unless you have a plan to intervene in any…

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My adored dog, Titan, went back to heaven where he came from.

In my reality, dogs are furry family members from God. They are listeners, protectors, comedic relief, therapy animals and companions of unwavering love. Over 8 years ago, we were reading in our local advertising paper and found something out of the ordinary. Typically you can find garage sales, tools for sale, real estate, that sort of thing. On this day however, there was an add for a 1 1/2 year old yellow lab mix who need a new home. The people said when they let him into their house, a single-wide manufactured home, he would go crazy. We drove right over to see him. When we got there he was in a small wire fenced pen. As soon as he saw us, he started jumping off the ground like a pogo stick. He cleared at least 4 feet. We learned that he was a yellow lab/golden retriever mix and had belonged to the people’s son. He needed us. His belly was full of pitch from being outside and they didn’t let him in the house often and it gets cold at night in LaPine. We said that we’ve love to take him home. One of us told him, “C’mon, load up!”, and he got in the truck right away. I’m not sure after that moment that he tail ever stopped wagging. He and our other dog, Sydney, hit it off and became good friends. They roamed the back-yard together chasing birds and squirrels. Barking would signify that a walker or bicyclist was on the trail in the state park. While the chickens would wander the yard, he’d be right there to eat the poop. YUCK! He was a faster and often could clear the area. Lol. He fit right in with the rest of the gassy family. His bark could scare away a intruder but he was the sweetest dog. He just wanted to love and lick and kiss you. I wish I could say he was a smart dog, that would be a lie. However, he knew when I was cutting up an apple and was always there for his piece. The popcorn maker was his favorite entertainment and always found a way to snag a few kernels. He was always looking for a sneaky way to get a swim in the pond or the kiddie pool.

Right now, in my mind’s eye, I can see his last days, his x-ray, hear his breathing and see his sad, sick face. I have some comfort knowing that as soon as we were aware of his cancer, that we made the right decision to ease his suffering. In time, I won’t keep seeing my two precious children next to the lifeless body of our beloved family member. For now, my heart is bruised and I am said.

I am so grateful to everyone who has reached out to us during this unexpected and difficult time. Don’t take anyone or anything for granted. Love them while you have them. God’s peace, Rebecca

Titan "hugging" AJ

Titan “hugging” AJ


No sad tears, today, thank you.

First of all, thank you to everyone that was brave enough to get into my bleakness yesterday. Today is better than yesterday and I am grateful. This morning, I woke up to Logan and him loving me. He helped set the positive tone for the day. I made some choices about boundaries and what I was willing to put up with at work and what I could avoid. This was not a fool-proof plan but protected me from the majority of my frustration. I recognize that I am stuck in a rut of anger at this person, and need to work past it. Will discuss with my therapist tomorrow. There is finally a turning point toward the better with the house disaster. Praise God. Yesterday, I had a hard time with “hold on, it gets better.” Today, I am reminded to have perspective about my life. I have love, trust, faith and freedom. I can be me without persecution. My children are safe and well. I could go on and on, now that I’ve shifted out of the black. I was so moved by the people that reached out to me. The offer to mind my burden so I could sleep…well, that still makes me cry tears of joy at belonging. (Hard to explain.)

I am reminded that sometimes instead of fighting and holding on to the bleak and black, I need to see it and name it and move on. I crawled into the pit and wallowed there this time. I am human and make unhealthy choices sometimes. Thank you for reserving judgement and for standing with me, rather than telling me what to do.

All in all, the pain of yesterday, is worth the hope of today. To be reminded that people care, is a huge blessing. I’m going to focus on that and move on towards the Light. Jesus loves you. He loves me too.


My tears will tell you that I’m sad.

I’m not sure if you’ve ever noticed, but tears have a different texture, depending on the emotion behind them. Tonight, my tears are sad an disappointed. They are hot and thick and sticky. I don’t want to be this me I am right now. The weak, fearful, exhausted me. The me that feels as if my organs have been replaced by separate balls of anxiety. A black, useless energy that causes my mind to spin and my body to shake. I hate it. This…this flaw that I have, the flaw that I am. I want to win. To conquer each day and yet I have admitted defeat in the night as I thrash in nightmares. My insomnia fills the room and I can hear it breathing while it lurks there. Next to the bed, under the blanket, on my pillow, next to my weary head that seeks peace and solace and calm. Some would say that I give the anxiety, depression and insomnia too much room in my person. However, I accept and embrace them and so we must learn to live together. Some days, a simple meditation will do. Other days, like today, begin and end with my face pressed against my security object. Sticky tears soak the fabric and when I’m on the edge of control, stifle my sobs. I am not crazy. I will not “lose it.” I do not need to be locked away in Sageview. This too shall pass and life gets better. While they are somewhat obnoxious cliche’s, I logically believe them to be true. Here in the dark, I do not feel that my God has forsaken me. He might be dragging me by my hair, but we are getting somewhere. Right now that is here, typing in my blog and releasing the bad, the broken, the lack of emotional beauty that does shame me. This week, giving in to the ugly, the dysfunction, the suffocating, means that I will miss a very important celebration. I have prayed about it and screamed about it. I am so angry that my life has limits. I want to dance and sing and celebrate and put aside my fear and social phobia. I won’t go so far as to say that I can’t. Rather I acknowledge that I am making a choice to let them stay. It has happened in the past that when I let them in, they stay awhile, we visit, I pray, we make amends and one day, out of the dark, the sun shines brighter than the day before. The air smells sweeter. The strength I’ve shown before is simply hiding. I know how easy I have it compared to many. Yet here I am overwhelmed and admittingly wallowing. I trust that those who love me, will have read the countless posts I’ve put on social media about what not to say with someone who has anxiety. Do not patronize me with “get over it” or other toxic nonsense. Either love me, or leave me. You don’t have to get in the muck and mess, with me. You can wait it out from far away. Or you can pray. I ask little as I have almost nothing to offer in return now. Except this. I love you. I can give this away and have enough left for myself. Today, my tears will tell you that I’m sad.


Paths and Mazes.


A Guest Blog Post by Logan Uecker, Age 10.

Birds are the roots of our earth and the grasses of our plains. Every time we cut the roots or grasses we are killing the birds of our earth. As we go through life we are taken on many paths and through many mazes. Each path and maze are short so we should take advantage of each one. The people we meet whether they are big or small, tall or short, mean or nice, are all nice somewhere inside.
Logan Uecker

The Author

The Author


I was an ally to Sarah, first.

Hello, dear friends. I wish I could remember specific details and quotes with clarity and overwhelming accuracy. Sadly, I can’t. High school was a stressful blur of memories and the good ones went with the bad as I let them fade into oblivion. In the 8th grade, through high-school and into the early years of college, one of my closet friends was Sarah. She was quiet, soft spoken and had a great sense of humor. As long as I can recall she loved furry little animals especially her cat, Baby. We both loved books. I can’t tell you know what originally drew me to Sarah. I know that I trusted her in a way that I have trusted very few since. I was a typically teenage girl, obsessed with attention, boys, the mall and liked to push the envelope. I didn’t take my classwork very seriously. Honestly, we didn’t really seem to have much in common. At some point during high school, I remember becoming aware that Sarah was a lesbian. (There was a funny conversation that took place about my boobs that still makes me laugh.) I don’t remember how it became more than an awareness and it became something we talked about. I have no idea if Sarah had a coming out speech that she gave me. If she did, I probably handled it like I did with Preston, “So? So what that you like girls?” What I missed at the time was how alienating this must have been at a Catholic high school with Catholic parents.I didn’t understand the persecution that Sarah risked to be herself. There is no way I could pretend to understand how life must have been for her. I know I did and said the wrong thing at times. I was self-absorbed and didn’t identify what an ally was and that I should be one. I can’t go back and change it now. I was young and dumb and didn’t have the balls to use my white, straight, privilege like I will now.

My first Pride parade was in Portland. I’m not sure the year. I think we were upperclassman in high school or perhaps we had graduated. Sarah wanted to go and I wanted to support her. I remember watching the parade wanting to do more, to be more for Sarah. I knew that we wouldn’t have a romantic relationship but I knew I loved her and wanted to keep her safe from hecklers or other assholes who were encountered. Towards the end of the parade, I remember some Bible thumpers giving us a hard time. .. Oh for Pete’s sake…I’m typing this and Everybody Hurts by REM comes on the radio. SERIOUSLY??? Give me a moment while I cry here…

Ok. Wow. Let me try to collect myself after that memory lane time warp. I remember there were religious bigots that criticized us and assumed we were a couple. There in that moment, I grew up quite a bit. I did not want to distance myself from my dear friend. I’d rather step toward her and claim her and knew with every fiber of my being that MY GOD loved Sarah and every other gay and lesbian person as much as He loved me.

I wish I could say that I kept showing up for Sarah and got involved in activism. I didn’t. I had a series of dysfunctional relationships and got pregnant at 19. I didn’t nurture my relationship with Sarah and I will regret that, always.

However, that pride parade has left an impact on me. Now, that I’m older and bolder I’m willing to sacrifice friendships and relationships fighting for what is right. It’s not just about wearing rainbows to Pride Events but to vote in such a way that all minorities will have the rights that I enjoy. It’s about teaching my children to use their privilege for the benefits of others. To show up for our friends at a Trans Pride March and carry the sandwiches for miles if this is what they need. It is about listening to the people that we are trying to be allies for and doing what they want and need. My job is to support and advocate for my bisexual son. To educate others about the stigmas and misconceptions that bisexual people face even from other LGTQ people.

As I participated in the Portland Pride Parade two weekends ago, I strongly felt like someone was missing. Sarah, the original love in my life that introduced me to Pride. I am the flashy and loud one and I think I was always a bit too boisterous for her. Who knows? Maybe if she saw me that day she would have tucked her head down to avoid the spectacle that is me and my people.

Sarah, if you are reading this, I will always have a special place for you in my heart. The love and support you offered me and the shit you put up with, I didn’t deserve. It made a huge impact on who I want to be. Love you, B


The blessing of another brother.

There have been many amazing things that have happened in the past week. The boys and I went on a road trip to Portland to participate in several Pride events. (That trip will get its own post.) Today, the boys and I went with my parents, Sharon and Dan, and Preston’s girlfriend, K, to Crater Lake. It was breathtaking. We have a bunch of photos that Preston took that do capture the beauty. I’ve spent time on the phone and online getting to know my father better. All spectacular blessings. However, yesterday, I received a phone call that I had never dared to hope for…

Yesterday, I heard my youngest brother’s voice for the first time. He’s not much older than Preston and yet when given my phone number, used it to call me! It was incredible. I was impressed by how calm he was. He said he was comfortable calling me and believes that “family is family and blood is blood.” Reunion is something that I’ve had many different types of experiences with, with different family members. I’d like to think I’m some sort of expert. However, the way he boiled it down to its simplest concept, was such a blessing for me. I didn’t feel anxious talking to him, like I usually do. Of course, I couldn’t shut up and barely let him get a word in edge-wise. There are so many little details I want to know about him! I want him to get to know us, his nephews and my husband. What I already know about him is that he is strong and sure enough to be willing to put himself out there, to call a perfect stranger to “find” his long-lost sister who has loved him all along. I am so proud of him for taking a risk on me and on being reunited. I still can’t stop grinning.

I’m so grateful to his mom and our dad for telling him about me and for painting me in enough of a favorable light that he felt he could call me. To have the chance for names to become faces and to have them claim me as their family is an unparalleled moment. The more I can see them in my future, the easier it is to stop looking back.

I do not share this milestone to brag, as I know some who read my blog are still lost or have experienced broken reunions or their reunions have glimmered on the horizon in front of them and then have faded away. This chance is not something that I take for granted. I share this to offer hope. Once upon a time, I was sure that this door to this brother of mine, was closed. I share this to show one more example of my life, being lived in God’s timing. I share this as an example of young people being open-minded and grown up.

I cannot wait to see what is next for us. God is good, my friends.

Love and love, Rebecca